


Value Village; Smut Emporium In Disguise

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frottage, In Public, Latex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They like to go clothes shopping together, and sometimes what Pete gets is a great product for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Value Village; Smut Emporium In Disguise

It's possible that shopping together is not the best of ideas. They're in three famous bands, after all. Thanks to shit like the celebrity spotter iPhone app, as soon as someone sees Pete Wentz the entire world knows where he is. Still a flash mob hasn't happened yet and the few times they have been interrupted it's just for a quick autograph or cell phone picture. Mikey can handle scrawling his name on a receipt or recyclable grocery bag if it means he gets to argue with Gabe over whether Macintosh or Braeburn apples taste best.

It's sort of the art of avoiding celebrity stalking. For the most part people look in places they expect celebrities to be, like restaurants or beaches or walking out their front door while wearing unfortunate sweat pants. Nobody ever expects rich people to hang out at used book stores, or secondhand vinyl stores, or cafes that only have room for three tables. Mikey and Gerard have gotten away with it for years. It’s a skill he’s trying to teach to Pete, because Gabe likes being photographed but Pete’s just resigned to it.

Mikey’s favourite place to go with them are thrift stores. Generally speaking it’s the best place to get clothes, and there’s always a chance there’s going to be some sort of awesome piece of crap that will make Gerard smile. The few times they’ve stumbled upon fans it’s always been a cool experience, some fifteen year old showing off the trenchcoat she just found that’s she’s going to dye black when she gets home, or a middle aged man asking them to sign a hardcover copy of Ulysses. Mikey doesn’t have problem with taking the shirt a fan frantically pulls off a hanger and signing it, as long as they remember to go buy it afterward.

They go for different things of course. There’s not a single person that could look at Mikey Way and Gabe Saporta and say they have the same style. Mikey goes for the vintage band merch. It doesn't matter if it's a size larger or smaller than him, he'll wear either. He can pull off skin tight and baggy equally well. Gabe on the other hand looks for anything vintage eighties. He’s got an overdose of neon in his life and like any addict always wants more.

It's not just them though, that want to go shopping. It's not even mostly them. Mikey could order his clothes online, they’d probably even be in the right size. And Gabe could send a runner with a caveat of only dayglo.

But when Pete comes he gets bored of Mikey and Gabe perusing and so wanders off and makes up his own game. It’s simple in theory, Pete walks through the store searching out the worst, tackiest looking, itchy, stretched out, pattern makes you want to scratch your eyes out articles of clothing, and tries them all on to make the most hideous possible combinations. In practice it’s simply amazing. Whenever Mikey and Gabe are done flicking the hangers from right to left as they look for treasures they know to go to the change room where Pete will be waiting, dressed in a disaster of clothing. Mikey doesn't think he's ever laughed harder than the time he came over to the row of stalls and saw Pete in a shirt with sequins stitched into a cat pattern coupled with floral pattern capris. Even if the fans did annoy him, it would be worth it to see Pete trying on clogs.

This time around Mikey’s found nothing; there were a few nice Metallica shirts, but he knows he has them all already. Shirts aren’t like action figures, there’s no need for duplicates. Gabe has a fuchsia button down he wants to try on, it looks like it’s only been worn once. Considering the eye bursting colour of it Mikey doesn’t really blame the previous owner, but knows that Gabe will look great if he decides to get it.

There are two locked stalls, and Mikey recognises the socks Pete’s wearing even as Gabe calls out “come out, come out where ever you are!”

From the other side of the door Pete says “I think I might actually buy these.” Mikey crosses his arms. For something to be so awful Pete wants to buy it to retain the humor, it’s gonna be good.

The lock clicks and the door opens and Mikey prepares to laugh, has even got his mouth open. And then he just freezes, because Pete is _not_ wearing a ballerina tutu, or a Hawaiian print mumu. There is nothing funny about what Pete’s wearing.

“Dude,” Gabe mutters appreciatively.

“I know! Can you believe someone threw these out? Fucking mental.”

Mikey knows his boyfriends aren’t stupid. They have to know those aren’t just normal pants. They’re skin tight, they cling to every inch of Pete’s legs. They’re black and shiny, and Mikey doesn’t have to touch them to know they’re not linen. Pete is wearing latex pants. Pete is wearing scene pants, only it’s a totally different scene from the one they all live in.

“I’ll have to get them hemmed though. They’re rolled up now, apparently I’m shorter than the average-”

“Fetishist?” Mikey interrupts.

“What?”

“You’re wearing fetish pants.”

“Fuck off.”

“Google latex pants on your phone. If the first ten websites aren’t porn or BDSM affiliated I’ll give you two hundred dollars.” Pete doesn’t take the bet, but Mikey sees Gabe pull out his phone, type something in, and smile before putting it back in his pocket.

“I’m still getting them,” Pete blusters. “I look fucking hot in these, and it’s my fucking money. I don’t say anything when you buy ratty shirts every other week!”

Mikey, who has seen Pete wearing his vintage shirts around the house more times than he can count, isn’t offended in the least. He just needs to press the point home before Gabe jumps in on Pete’s side and they end up researching and the next thing Mikey knows he’s being tied to an A-frame, being paddled until he bleeds.

“You realise how many sex acts have been performed in those pants?”

Mikey realises he’s taken the wrong path when Gabe starts leering. If he had just mentioned germs and dirtiness Pete might have shied away, though there’s no guarantee considering he’s drunk piss. But a mention of sex and their attention is piqued in exactly the wrong way.

“How about X plus one?” Gabe says, eyeing the clear outline of Pete’s package.

Pete grins and moves his hand to the exact spot Gabe’s staring at. “Does that mean I have to solve for X?”

Gabe replies with “Let’s work on the one first.”

Mikey rolls his eyes, not that either of them are looking at him. “A, you both suck at dirty talk. B, you’re in the middle of a store. C, those pants have probably already irreversibly cut off the circulation to your balls.”

“A, it’s not like we need to seduce you, B, we are literally two feet from a changing room, C, you don’t know until you try,” Gabe shoots back immediately. Before Mikey has a chance to come up with a rebuttal, Gabe shoves Pete into the stall and closes the door behind them.

So now Mikey’s got two choices. He can stand outside the stall, hoping that no worker will come over and catch them, and be jealous. Or he can go in with them, and still have exactly the same chances of being caught, but not give a crap because he’s distracted. Really, there’s only one choice that’s any good. He knocks on the stall and steps back quickly enough that it doesn’t hit him.

Mikey drops his jeans at the same time that Gabe does. He kicks both pairs towards the door. It doesn’t fully cover the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, but it’s hopefully enough to make it less noticeable that there are three sets of feet in the tiny space. Pete’s thumbs are curled under the latex on his hips. The fabric has already warmed, making them harder to peel off, and it gives Mikey an idea.

“No.” He shakes his head. “You wanted to wear them, you keep wearing them.”

“The fuck?” Mikey’s kiss swallows any further protests, and while he’s got Pete’s mouth occupied he walks him backwards until he’s against the mirrored wall. He pulls down his boxers just far enough to get his cock out and starts rubbing against Pete’s thigh. He has to squat a bit, Pete’s shorter than him, but the odd angle is nothing compared to the way the slick fabric feels against his dick. It’s like a heat-exuding blow-up doll.

“Gabe, you need to try this.” Gabe grins at them both and takes Pete’s other thigh.

So maybe he was wrong. Pete should definitely buy the pants. Yes, the person that owned them before him probably did a hundred sex acts or more while wearing them. But the way this feels, Mikey doesn’t blame the faceless individual at all. He turns to the side and bites Gabe’s shoulder as he comes, he doesn’t want to make any noise and attract employees. With any luck they’d be someone that would recognise one of them, and then horrible things would be leaked across the internet.

The bite seems to send Gabe into a spiral. He starts rutting faster against Pete, who’s finally begun to push his hips back against Gabe. Mikey both loves and hates the way Pete will let everyone else get off before he does. It’s great, but it’s a bit self-sacrificing, and that’s not what a relationship should be about. He darts his hand between them and cups Pete’s balls outside the latex. The feel of warm skin through the plastic should help Pete out, maybe even make him get off before Gabe.

It’s not to be though. Gabe bites his lips as Mikey tears into another piece of his shoulder, shudders, and leaves himself all over Pete’s right leg.

Pete’s head slams back as he comes, narrowly missing impaling himself on the tarnished gold clothes hook. The entire stall rattles and Mikey winces, but there’s no immediate comment so he figures they’re in the clear.

“If you’ll help me wipe them up, I think I want to wear them home.” Mikey sighs but looks for something he can help clean with. After all, with the use they’ve already gotten out of the pants, it wouldn’t be fair if they didn’t buy them.


End file.
